Into the Darkness
by LostinOblivion
Summary: What happens when Scully has to play profiler, and get a convicted murderer to talk? MS UST eventually.
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, so the deal behind this one…I was trying to accomplish two things. One was practice writing a serial killer, and the second, and more important for this story, I was attempting to get over my squeamishness. I can read it, and I can write character angst afterward, but I don't like to write graphic torture-rape scenes. And, if I eventually want to write crime fiction, I need to get over that and do it. Mission accomplished._

_This story is done, so I was able to write it without too much of a problem. And, since it's written, I'm going to try to update quickly. Neither Scully, not Mulder are the victims in any of the graphic descriptions, I'll say that now._

_Last thing, if you haven't figured it out from the above description—this one gets ugly. Next chapter I'm switching it to an M. If you can't handle it, don't read it. It'll rotate perspectives among Mulder, Scully, and the killer, so it's going to be very dark.  
_

_Reviews for this one will be very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

March 3, 2000

James T. Vaughn Correctional Center (JTVCC) in Delaware

Secure Housing Unit (SHU)

Dodge Howard was stretched out in his cell, holding 'The Fellowship of the Ring' over his face. He was two chapters in, and not all that amused, but his shrink seemed to like it when he read. She seemed to think it would mellow him out, or maybe make him smarter and less inclined toward violence. Whatever, as long as the old bitch kept off his back, he didn't really give a shit.

Seventeen years inside hadn't changed him, and reading about fat little freaks with hairy feet wouldn't either. But, it did help pass the time in his very small cell. He got one hour out everyday, and that was it. With no TV or radio, reading was about all he had. His fellow inmates were not much to talk to, too stupid to maintain an interesting conversation. And, too young to realize they were idiots.

He was the oldest on the block by far, at sixty-seven, but still managed to scare the hell out of the younger guys. He was generally regarded as 'fucking crazy', and liked to keep it that way. The powers that be had, over the years, batted around the idea of transferring him to a facility for the criminally insane, but always decided against it. Still, he was kept in the SHU to control his outbursts.

He smashed the page into the book to keep his place, and sniffed the air. It was faint, but he could smell it--a woman's perfume. It wasn't expensive, nor floral or fruity, but more of a fresh scent, a practical scent. It grew stronger, and Dodge pulled himself up off his bunk, looking down the hallway. He saw her almost immediately, and moved toward the bars. His hands wrapped around them, and he peered out at the couple walking toward his cell.

The man held a file, swinging it back and forth as he walked, his eyes seeming to take note of everything around him. But, it was the woman that drew Dodge's attention. She looked so much like Janine, he felt his breath catch and his groin stir.

He wondered if the petit redhead's hair was as soft as his Janine's was, if her thighs were as firm, as strong. He imagined running his hand up her leg, under that black skirt, and had to choke down the catch in his throat. She looked strong, likely a cop, and that meant she had to be fit. He liked that. Janine had been fit, it made her last longer.

They got closer and he noted she was talking. Her beautiful pink mouth was moving quickly, but he didn't hear a word of it. Her lips were plump, tantalizing, and his grip tightened on his cell bars, his knuckles turning pale. As they passed, he felt himself grow hard, watching her ass move away. He heard them speak then.

"I think we've hit a dead end on this one, Mulder."

"It was a thin case anyway, Scully. You ready for dinner?"

Scully. Her name was Scully. She smiled at her companion, and Dodge retreated to the back of his cell to take care of business. His eyes squeezed shut, imagining those pink lips pleading for mercy, and strong calves bracing her on the ground as she kneeled before him. He moaned in pleasure.

* * *

April 9, 2000

Enroute to JTVCC

"I don't like this, Scully." Mulder spit a seed shell out the window, and regarded his partner.

"I'm not crazy about it either, but if it helps some families put their loved ones to rest, it's worth it." She shrugged, opening the file on her lap to study it for the umpteenth time.

"This guy is sick, and he's fixated on you, this could be dangerous."

"I will have guards outside the door ready to charge in, one of the original agents on the case watching through a camera feed, and with him will be my over-protective partner ready to rip the door off it's hinges if I give even the slightest indication of distress." She smirked at him.

"You laugh, Scully, but you don't know how right you are."

She decided not to comment on that. The truth was she did know, and she knew that she was just as protective of him. She considered telling him to stay in DC, but she knew after spending all day talking to a rapist-killer, she'd need someone to bring her mind to a less ugly place. She was counting on Mulder to do that for her.

"Anyway, I'm not just worried about your physical safety, Scully. I used to do this, I know how ugly it gets. If they're going to let you into their heads, you've got to give them an inch into yours, and I don't want you to go through that." He picked up her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

"Then help me, tell me how to maintain distance through this."

"You're asking the wrong guy, Scully. Spooky Mulder got in all the way, and didn't care if he took a beating to do it." He didn't look at her as he spoke. His time in the BAU was not filled with pretty memories.

Scully bit her lip. Of course, she knew Mulder when he profiled, the man didn't know what distance was at those times. She took hold of his hand, and laced their fingers together.

It would be unpleasant, but it would be fine. She'd listen to him talk about his victims, get the locations of their bodies, and leave him to rot in his cell. Mulder would be a room down, watching and listening, working with the original agent on the case to track down the bodies. Dodge Howard was finally going to talk, and it wasn't in exchange for privileges or better cell, it was because he wanted to spend time with her. His words.

It already made her skin crawl.

* * *

JTVCC Private Meeting Room

Scully waited patiently in the small, windowless room for the serial killer who'd requested she personally speak to him. He'd seen her walk down his cellblock with Mulder when they'd visited another prisoner a month ago, a case that turned out to be a waste of time. She glanced up at the corner behind her, on her right side, away from the door. She offered Mulder a tense smile through the camera, and could almost feel him return one. He'd be able to hear and see everything in the room, and could alert the guards if Howard got out of hand.

The door startled her, and she turned around to see one bulky guard moving backward into the room, leading an older man, a second guard following. They removed the leg shackles, and attached his cuffs to the table, before backing away toward the door.

"Are you all set, Miss?" The first guard asked.

"Yes, I'll be alright. Thank you." Both guards nodded, and walked out of the room. Scully felt a little vulnerable without her gun, and she tried very hard not to show it.

Dodge Howard's face was like sandpaper, rough and almost worn away in spots. The gray stubble on his chin made him look even rougher, but his cold green eyes were what really set him apart. They were grass green that bled into gray in the center, and spit hate out at the world. He had thick lips to match a thick potato-like nose, and he smiled grimly at her, his whole demeanor exuding arrogance and anger.

"I'm happy to finally meet you, Dana."

Scully suppressed a shiver. His voice was smooth and thick as cream, even in that quiet almost whisper. It reminded her of Mulder speaking, but whereas Mulder's voice was filled with caring and affection, Howard actually sounded appetized.

"I wish I could say the feeling was mutual, Mr. Howard." She sat with her back as straight as she could make it, attempting to maintain whatever authority she could.

"Call me Dodge, we'll be spending a lot of time together."

"Oh?"

"You want to know about my victims, don't you?" He gave no indication of being troubled.

"Yes, I do. Can you tell me where you buried them?"

"Not all of them are buried, that's why I'm going to walk you through it all. Step. By. Step." He grinned, showing surprisingly clean teeth.

It suddenly occurred to Scully that the man thought himself suave, a ladies man, perhaps even a modern day Casanova. He expected women to be taken with him, swept off their feet, and to play his game, she was going to have to be one of those women. Not right away, or he'd see through it, but as she spoke to him, Scully would force herself to empathize, to feel for him.

She allowed her posture to relax, and pressed her lips together, eased herself into a more conversational mode. She crossed her legs, and dropped the pen she'd been holding.

"Alright Dodge, if we're going to spend as much time together as you say, we ought to get familiar. You're name here is listed as Christopher, why do they call you Dodge?"

"A nickname from my mom. I always knew how to dodge her when she came at me with a frying pan or a shoe."

"She abused you."

"She tried, but like I said, I got good at dodging her."

Scully forced her face into a look of compassion. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, no child should ever be abused."

His eyes darkened and he sneered. "I don't want your pity, pussy."

She didn't react to the insult, but made a mental note of it. "So, you asked to talk to me. Talk."

"How many women you think I killed?"

"The file says seven known victims, but the number is projected to be two or three times that."

"Not too far off. There were twenty-nine in all. I usually went for one every eight months. That was long enough between to keep the cops oblivious, and close enough to satisfy me. Killed them all around the state too, different jurisdictions."

Scully swallowed, but still maintained her composure, her cool, while he spoke. "You want to tell me the names of these women?"

He smiled. "Not yet, Puss. Don't you want to know why I chose you?"

"I was here last month on another case. You saw me, what more do I need to know than that?"

"So, you think I chose you for your brains, and your aptitude as an _FBI agent_?" He enunciated the last part, making fun of her.

"No Dodge, I'm not that naive. I fit your victim type, it excites you to have me alone with you."

"Come on Puss, you make that sound so clinical. Too much like an FBI agent."

"Then how would you word it?" She asked, one eyebrow raised.

He closed his eyes, and inhaled, turning his face toward the ceiling, almost hiding his satisfied smile. Eyes still closed, he breathed in as he spoke. "You know I can smell you, Puss?"

Scully's only response was a raised eybrow. Dodge didn't open his eyes to see.

"Yeah, after seventeen years living with all men, I've got a damn good nose for a woman. They don't let women guards on the SHU, but occasionally one comes by, and I can smell her, just like I smell you right now. It's subtle, almost covered by your perfume, but it's there."

"There a point to this, Dodge?" Scully rallied all her disgust and anger in an effort not to show fear crawling up her spine.

He didn't acknowledge her question, but kept his calm, enraptured tone. "See, I smell it, Puss, and it's hard for me not to imagine would it feels like inside. I can almost feel my fingers pushing inside your pussy, all hot and wet for me. Like pushing my knife in your belly, that's all soft, and hot, and wet too. I see my cock hugged by those beautiful, perky lips of yours, your eyes wide as I push into until you choke." He groaned softly, and inhaled sharply, and Scully didn't need to glance under the table to know that he was probably as hard and tall as a telephone poll.

Suddenly, he titled his head back down, and opened his eyes to look directly into hers.

He ran his tongue over his thick lips, his saliva glistening under the fluorescent lights. "What you all don't get, Puss, what you'll _never get _is that I _live_ for that moment of death. There is no orgasm like that one that happens at that moment." He leaned close toward her. "It's fireworks, Puss."


	2. Chapter 2

_See the warnings in chapter one if you haven't already. _

_Sorry for the delay in getting this up, I got busy. I'm hoping to get another chapter up Saturday, and then Wednesday. Thanks for reading, and please review!_

* * *

April 10, 2000 (Courting)

JTVCC Private Meeting Room

Dodge shifted in his seat, his cuffs clinking, as he admired the woman across from him. She came in only half an hour ago, and was looking rather unimpressed with him. Her jaw was tight as she played with her pen, letting the shaft slide down her fingers, and hit the paper, before she flipped it over, and repeated the action. He stared at the pen, and imagined it was his cock instead, her fingers sliding down and over.

He didn't mind being quiet, he could fantasize in silence, but he knew if he didn't talk she'd leave, and maybe not come back. He wondered how long she could stick it out with him, before she was too disgusted to listen any longer. She was tougher than she looked--she had come back after all--he figured she'd make it at least a few days. He'd made her uncomfortable yesterday, he knew it from the tiniest touch of fear in her eyes.

He'd dreamt of her all last night, and that spark of fear. He woke up wet for the first time in years.

"I suppose, I should start telling you about my girls," he said.

She stopped playing with her pen, and looked at him. "That's why I'm here."

"Selina Juarez, March 1973. Seventeen, walking home from school in suburb outside of Wilmington. Black hair, the biggest and darkest brown eyes I ever saw, and these pouty little lips that tasted like sugar-kissed strawberries. She was wearing a skirt that hit her knees, and a blue vest over her blouse." He inhaled and closed his eyes, remembering that day as if it were the sweetest of childhood memories.

"Did you stalk Miss Juarez?"

"Now that makes it sound so awful. I prefer to say that I courted her, first time I saw her was early November. She had on this jacket that had a button right below her breasts, and pushed them damn near up to her chin. That's what I noticed about her first."

His companion seemed to smirk at that.

"Something amusing you, Puss?"

"Just that you aren't so different from any other man I know. A pretty face and breasts gets your attention faster than anything else."

He regarded her silently, before suddenly smiling. "The boys neglecting you, Puss?"

"I suppose I don't have much of a social life," she said, shrugging.

"Nobody ever told you that you're beautiful?" He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he couldn't with the cuffs. He'd have loved to run a hand over her cheek.

"Sure, my father, all the time."

"But, no boyfriend ever told you how pretty you are?"

"I'm sure they have, I guess just didn't make note of it."

"You're a daddy's girl, aren't you, Puss?" He leaned close, lowering his voice to make their conversation more private.

"What makes you say that?" She frowned, but it was almost amused, her deep pink lips nearly curving to a smile.

"You don't remember any man calling you beautiful besides your father, that tells me you were close, and he's the only man who's approval you want. Does he know you do this?"

"He's dead now, but yes, he did know about my job."

"He know you talk to people like me? That you smile at me like that? I bet you're getting a little wet, Puss, aren't you?"

She did smile then. "Come on Dodge, I'm a little harder to break than that."

He chuckled, a sound that came from deep in his throat. "I'll get you wet before we're through here, I promise you that, Pussy."

* * *

JTVCC Observation Room

Mulder shook his head, looking away from the screen. Scully shouldn't have to listen to that shit.

"You're partner's got nerves of steel," Agent Harry Friedman commented, turning to Mulder. He was thirty-nine when he'd begun searching for the killer of seven women across Delaware, and forty-five before he was able to finally catch Howard. His partner at the time had been older, and had since retired.

Friedman was an AD now, of the Delaware office, and looked at Howard the way all cops do the killers they've chased--somewhere beyond exhausted and worn-out by having to actually deal with minds that twisted and grotesque. Mulder knew he'd carried that look himself, several times. It was only part of the reason he hated profiling, and part of the reason he wanted to keep Scully as far away from it as possible.

It wasn't sexist, not really. His desire to protect her had very little to do with the fact that she was a woman. He wanted to protect her because she was Scully.

"Yes, she does. It's saved my ass more than a few times."

Friedman chuckled. "Sounds like she gets a lot of practice with that."

Mulder shrugged and offered a self-deprecating half-grin. "Did you recognize that name, Selina Juarez?"

"Yeah, she was one of our suspected, but not confirmed victims. Pretty girl, should have been married with kids, a dog, and a job as a Vet." He started digging through a box of files.

Mulder arched his eyebrows in a question.

"Oh, the girl loved animals, went horse-back riding regularly, volunteered at a shelter walking dogs, petting cats and cleaning cages, and nagged her mom for a guinea pig constantly."

"You remember all that, after all this time?"

"I ate, slept and breathed this case for six years, Agent Mulder. Considering your reputation, that shouldn't surprise you that much." Finally locating the filed he wanted, Friedman set it down in front of Mulder.

"That's different. I have an eidetic memory."

Friedman shrugged. "Too bad you're so damn young, you would've been a help on this."

Mulder chose not to comment, but instead studied the file on the girl. He was right, she was a pretty girl. Psychos always seemed to go after pretty girls, always the smart, talented, beautiful ones that smiled like they were ready to take on the world. No wonder the sick bastard liked Scully.

Scully was definitely on the older side of his victim profile, but she looked young, especially as petite as she was. He shook his head. He'd already read about Howard, as soon as Skinner had passed them--well, really Scully--the assignment. He wanted to know who they were putting her in the room with, who they were pimping her out to. The man liked women that would put up a fight, women he could enjoy breaking--body and mind. He'd looked at the photos of Howard's victims, their burned, battered, broken forms, and he'd wanted very much to put his fist threw a wall.

The bastard gets a hard-on after one look at her, and then the powers that be send her off to listen to his sins while he fantasized about raping and brutalizing her. Mulder insisted on being glued to her side for the trip, which surprisingly, she didn't argue much against. Scully had just told him to behave himself.

He looked at the camera again to where his partner was looking as cool as a cucumber, while a serial killer leered at her like she was a fine cut piece of beef.

* * *

Eight hours later

JTVCC Private Meeting Room

"Now Kara, her I watched for a full eight months. That was uh, 67, I think. She was twenty-six, well twenty-seven, she had her birthday about a month before I took her. I watched her go to dinner with her husband, a nice restaurant, just a the two of them. She wore a little cocktail dress and a big smile, but I could tell she was anxious going in and coming out. I think that might have been the first time she spent time away from the baby." He frowned, head cocked toward the ceiling thinking.

Scully started. "She had a child?"

Her head had been sagging as she scribbled barely coherent notes on a yellow legal pad. She'd swear she was in the ninth circle of Hell, the one reserved for...oh Christ, she didn't remember. Just over nine hours was way too long to listen to this rotten bastard recount his crimes in that smooth, pleasure-filled voice. She'd dropped any pretense of being attracted to him, just trying made her want to vomit.

"Yeah. I didn't even know she was pregnant when I started watching. She had it in the sixth month I watched her, a little girl."

"So, you didn't find her pregnancy...off-putting at all?" You weren't bothered by killing someone's mother you rotten bastard, was what she actually thought.

"Naw, not really. Actually, when I realized, I was kind of excited."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Well, I'd never done a pregnant one before, so that was new. But, it was more like, like a two for one special, I'd get to feel them both dying."

He wasn't smiling now; his eyes had become unfocused, his breathing quicker. He was living the past in front of her, the excitement of each of his kills. He suddenly inhaled, a terribly satisfied sound, and brought his focus back to her.

"But, you waited until after she'd had the baby, why?"

"It was hard to get her alone at first, and then I found out she was having a girl. That gave me a better idea."

Scully made no comment, her stomach churning violently at the thought of what would come out of his mouth next.

"When I had her on the ground, and she was all weak, she wasn't begging for her own life. She was bleeding out all over the ground, and crying while I drilled into her, she could barely talk. I told her I couldn't wait to come back and do her daughter like I was doing her, and that's when she stopped crying. She begged me not to hurt her baby. I told her I couldn't wait to rip apart her baby's tight little pussy, and she might have been dying, but I'll tell you that girl fought." He shifted in his seat, and shuffled.

"You were surprised?"

"I didn't think she had any fight left in her." He shrugged, amused.

Scully looked down at her legal pad, running a hand over her aching neck, trying keep her hatred of him from her eyes.

"You a little tense? I could help you with that, Puss."

"I'm fine."

"I'll bet you are. You know, you're only a little older than Rachel."

"Rachel?" God, she couldn't handle much more of this.

"Kara's baby. She'd be about 33, I guess. And, you're what, thirty five?" He leaned toward her.

"Thirty-six."

"You have a husband?"

Scully straightened up in her seat, jotting a few notes on her pad, not looking at him. "No."

"Boyfriend?"

"No, I don't."

"You're kind of shy, aren't you, Puss?"

"What was Kara's last name?" Scully ignored his question, inhaling deeply.

"Donahue."

"Where did you bury her?"

"I told you, Puss, we'd get to all that later; I want to walk your through it all first, introduce you properly to all my girls." He smiled, his tongue running cross his lower lip.

"In that case, I think we're done for the day," Scully answered, flipping the pages back down on her legal pad and capping the pen, gathering her things. She'd turned to leave, when he called to her.

"Hey Puss!"

Scully turned around, lips pursed in impatience, eyes almost glassy with exhaustion. "What?"

"Why are you shy?" Scully didn't answer, so he pressed on. "Some boy hurt you? Touch you in bad places?" He grinned. "Did your daddy that you love so much touch you in your private place when you were a little girl? He come into your room at nights, and stick his hand up your pretty pink nightgown?"

Scully turned fully around facing him, arms crossed over her legal pad. "My father was Navy, out to sea more often than he was home. He'd come into my room at night, and read me chapters from Moby Dick until I fell asleep." She went to turn back to the door, but stopped abruptly. "Oh, and I never wore nightgowns, or pink. I preferred pajamas, usually blue or green, occasionally purple if it was a dark shade."

Then she did turn, knocked on the door, and waited for the guard to open it. She could hear Dodge chuckle behind her as she walked out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

April 11, 2000 (Driving)

JTVCC Observation Room

The next morning Scully was both a bit more confident, and more reluctant to walk into the room with Dodge. She'd had the last word, and therefore, the upper hand yesterday. But, that only meant he'd try harder to get under her skin today. He'd give her all sorts of details she didn't want to hear, and smile while he was doing it. Dodge enjoyed making her squirm, and they both knew it.

"You okay, Scully?" Mulder was beside her, studying a group of folders.

He'd been trying very hard not to hover over her, to trust that she could handle it, but she could still tell that he was worried. Scully had caught him glancing over at her all last night, and this morning. He'd all but threatened to force-feed her breakfast if she didn't willing put food in her mouth herself. He'd even given her hand a squeeze this morning. She figured that was as much for himself as it was for her.

"I think I finally understand why you hated profiling so much, Mulder." It wasn't that she hadn't understood, but now to have personal experience...it was more than understanding.

He shrugged. "That was different than this. Hard, but still different."

She looked at him, silently asking a question.

"Well for one thing, I wasn't often face to face with killers, and when I did--well, overwhelmingly serial killers are male and their victims female. When I interviewed them, they saw a cop. Someone to horrify, and brag to, but still, a cop. You're a woman. He sees you as a potential victim, and he wants you to know that. That's why he calls you 'Puss' and 'Pussy', he wants you to know that to him, all you are is a victim to take."

"Yeah, I caught that." She sighed, and picked up one of the folders, looking into the face of Kara Donahue, the young mother he'd killed.

"Scully, looking at these is just going to make it harder for you, it'll give you real faces." He rested his hand on hers.

"They deserve faces, Mulder. And, it's not like I'm not seeing them anyway."

He stared into her eyes for a moment, before relenting, and dropping his hand. Scully wasn't about to give up, or admit any weakness. It wasn't her style, and he wouldn't challenge her on it, not when her stoic demeanor would serve her so well dealing with Dodge.

She suddenly dropped the folder back on the pile, and looked around, one hand up near her mouth, breath coming out loudly in frustration. "Is this all the women he mentioned yesterday?"

"Only seven, we're trying to locate the other three."

"Who haven't you found yet?" She was still clearly unnerved, but less so, now that she was in her element. Scully was an investigator, not a profiler.

Mulder looked at his notepad, "Jessie Holmes, 19. Diane Hershey, 37, and his youngest victim, Annabelle Colson, age 14."

"Diane was the college professor?"

"Yeah, of South American history. She taught at Wesley in Dover."

"Didn't Jessie Holmes attend Wesley?"

"Yeah about ten years before Diane taught there, and Annabelle Colson lived in Dover. The Dover PD is digging through their warehouse for our files. These are old cases, we're lucky the paperwork is still around and undamaged."

Scully nodded, head freezing as she saw the guards bringing Dodge into the interrogation room. "Looks like I'm up."

* * *

JTVCC Private Meeting Room

"Hey Puss, you sleep well last night?" Dodge licked his lips, ignoring the guards that moved around him.

"Like a baby." Scully answered, sliding into the seat across from him.

"Say Puss, what about giving me a break here?" He held up his cuffed hands to show her, and received a glare from one of the guards.

She seemed to consider that and shrugged, looking at the guards. "Leave him cuffed, but don't attach him to the table."

They exchanged a look, then turned back to Scully. Dodge watched her nod again, and smiled. Even the tiniest bit of freedom was treasured. The guards left, shaking their heads.

"So, what are we discussing today?" She leaned slightly forward, seemingly ready to listen.

Dodge appreciated the position, not because she was so tuned to him, but because it put her cleavage at a rather pleasing angle. Not that she showed much. The mint green top under her black suit jacket was crew neck, and as such cut fairly high. He wasn't sure what kind of fabric, but it looked soft. He imagined it caressing her skin, warm and flushed pink. His throat was suddenly very dry. He decided that it wasn't necessarily bad that she was wearing pants today, rather than a skirt.

"Dodge? You with me?" Her face was close to his, blue eyes staring in at him, wondering where he'd gone to.

"Sorry Puss, sometimes you're a bit of a distraction."

Her mouth opened, about to voice her confusion for all of two seconds, then it snapped shut, and she glanced at her notepad. "You told me about stalking some of the women you killed yesterday, what are we talking about today?"

"Courting, Puss. I prefer to call it courting."

"Fine courting. What's today, necking?" One eyebrow raised, impatience in her eyes; in his mind he could see her face abruptly shift to pain and terror. His pants felt a little tight.

He chuckled. "Nope, something I like to call driving."

Her lips pursed as she waited silently.

"You ever just gone on a nice long drive with a man?"

"Sure, many times with my partner."

"He doesn't count. I mean a boyfriend, Puss."

"I suppose. When I was a teenager, don't really have the time now."

"There's something about a quiet drive at sunset that's very romantic, don't you think?"

"Well, sunsets in and of themselves tend to be a symbol of romance, so I suppose experiencing one while secluded in a car with your lover would be very romantic." She actually looked thoughtful, and he almost wished he'd met her while she was a twenty-something college student. Brilliant, beautiful, and still possesing the innocence of youth.

"Yeah, that's why I take my girls for a drive."

She snapped him back to the present. "I suppose that 'drive' includes duct tape, rope, or perhaps tranquilizers?"

"Duct tape. One of the few things my father taught me while he was around--duct tape can fix anything. Fixed my mom when she wouldn't shut up."

Those perky pink lips frowned. "You watched your father rape your mother?"

Dodge shook his head. "A man can't rape his wife."

"Something else your father taught you?"

"Guess you could say that. A man marries a woman, he's got rights." He watched her shift tensely in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

"So, you watched you father restrain your mother with duct tape, and have sex with her?"

"It was usually just to keep her quiet. Mom was a skinny, petite little thing like you, he didn't have much trouble holding her down."

"Is that why your victims tend to be petite? You go by what your father taught you?" She stopped her scribbling on the pad so she could look at him while she asked.

Dodge offered a dark grin. "I just like them small. The small ones that work hard, they're usually the tightest."

She swallowed, her throat shifting with it, and he followed it down to where her shirt began to cover the pale skin.

"Bet you're pretty tight, Puss."

"Listen, you haven't given us any locations for two days. We need something, or I'm walking out now, and not returning."

"Alright calm down now, Puss. I'll tell you about Selena and Lori, they aren't too far from each other."

"Okay, then tell me."

"I took Lori for two drives. One to pick her up, and one to drop her off. Gentlemanly of me, huh?" He winked at her.

"Very. Go on."

"Lori was a bit messier than the others. She'd been out of college a year in 1977, so I figured she wasn't as strong, you know, without all the soccer games and such. Turns out the girl went to a gym, and worked her body into this amazing tautness. She fought like a damn tigress, I had to get a little vicious with the cattle prod. First time I ever used it between a woman's legs. She screeched and writhed, and I shoved it right up against her clit. I swear those green eyes of hers rolled right back in her head for a minute. I think she actually liked it." He chuckled.

She'd made her face unreadable stone, but her eyes gave her away. She was sickened by him.

"You ever wondered what that feels like, Puss?"

"Can't say I have."

"Maybe I'll get to show you one day."

"You're never getting out of here, Dodge."

"Then I'll just have to dream it, won't I?" He rested his hands on the table and leaned very close to her. "Doing Lori after the cattle prod was really something special, and the way she fought. She was so wet from the shock to her clit, I just slid in and out real smoothly. I don't think I've ever been that hard in my life watching her spasm, but she took all of me easily. That made me sloppy though, I kept her for a full night."

"You were afraid of getting caught?"

"Yeah, I had rules to prevent that, you know? One of which was that I never kept them that long, it was too risky. So, the next evening, soon as dark fell, I took her on that second drive. It was nice. The stars were out, the roads weren't too busy, it was sort of peaceful. Especially when we got to the bay. Rehoboth Bay. I weighted her down with some bricks I'd found months before, and tossed her into the salt marshes." He paused, coming out of his almost-dreamlike state. "You know, those things are tourist attractions now? The marshes, I mean."

Scully cleared her throat. "I didn't. What part of Rehoboth Bay?"

"Off Route 274, above Arnell Road. I parked along there, and dragged her through the brush. She should still be there."

* * *

_First thing, I have no idea what a cattle prod to a clitoris would actually do, nor do I particularly want to know; this is all just a lot of creative license on my part. This part was a little shorter, but the next one will be longer, and go outside of the JTVCC, in fact, Dodge isn't in that chapter at all--a little break from the horror. _

_So, thank you everyone that's reviewed. That means a lot with this particular story for many reasons, and I just wanted express that. And, thank you everyone who is reading this story. Enjoy your weekends!_


	4. Chapter 4

_I'm so, so sorry I didn't get this up yesterday!! I endured the hair cut from hell (seriously, ouch), so I was pretty well focused on just chilling the rest of the night. But, here is the next part, and I will get another part up sometime this weekend no matter what. There's only two left, so it will be finished some time next week. _

_And, thank you all so much for reviewing!!!_

* * *

April 11, 2000

Rehoboth Bay- Sussex County, DE

Red and blue swept across the marsh, and the dusk sky beyond it. It felt like half the cops in Delaware were there, cruisers and emergency vehicles parked along every available piece of road. Patrolmen and women were slogging through the marshland in thick rubber boots and black wading overalls. They'd been searching the area for close to four hours, and so far the drag nets were coming up empty.

Mulder was anxious to find the body, and get the hell back to the prison. He didn't like the thought of Scully facing that animal all by herself. Sure, there were prison guards, but it was his job to back her up. He couldn't do that an hour away. But, they'd both decided it was best she stay and keep working Dodge, see if she could get any further locations from him. The sooner he gave them all up, the sooner they could leave, and never think about Dodge again.

"Over here!" Like a choreographed dance number, everyone stopped what they were doing, and turned to the voice.

A young patrolman was staring nauseated at the bone in his rubber-gloved hand. Mulder followed Feinstein out toward the kid, making a racket as they splashed through the murky water. The young rookie cop actually looked a bit frightened by the object in his hand, as if he'd just realized that it wasn't a TV show.

"It's a femur, and it's aged," the medical examiner patted the rookie on the back, and took the bone from him, studying it through her thick glasses.

It was tarnished to a tan color, and glistened with the water that soaked it, still dripping back into the marsh. Mulder stood and waited patiently for the ME to comment further, to let them know if the time frame fit.

"I can't give you much, but judging by length, it's likely female, and I'd say thirty years old, give or take. With more bones, I can give you more." She shrugged at them, her mousy brown curls bouncing against her shoulders.

"Alright, let's concentrate dragging over here!" Feinstein shouted to the cops. "I can't believe it, the bastard actually didn't lie to us," he said to Mulder.

Mulder shook his head. "He likes the attention too much. If he lied, we'd find out quick enough, and one call to the prison, and he doesn't get to see Scully anymore. He doesn't want that, he wants to spend as much time with her possible."

Feinstein studied him. "It bothers you a lot, doesn't it?"

"That my partner has to spend hours talking to a rapist-murder, while he gets off on his own crimes, and fantasizes of doing the same to her?" He said harshly. "Yeah, it bothers me a lot."

Feinstein opened his mouth, seemed to reconsider what he was going to say, and closed it again. Mulder looked at him dubiously, he assumed the older agent was trying to find the least offensive way to approach the 'are you banging your partner' question. The whole Bureau assumed he was, showed how little they knew.

Surprising him, Feinstein shrugged. "I've never had a female partner, but politically incorrect or not, I don't think I'd be too happy about this situation either. I'm old fashioned."

Mulder sighed. "It's less to do with her being a woman, and more because she's a close friend."

"Well, you better suck it up, Buddy. We've got twenty-six bodies after this one." He clamped Mulder on the shoulder.

Mulder scowled, and started when he heard one of the cops yell out, "I've got the skull!"

* * *

Sussex County Coroner's Office

Scully stood with her arms crossed over her chest and lips pursed tightly, metal autopsy gurneys on either side of her. Mulder, Feinstein and the ME were in front of her, the ME in her protective clothing. Discolored, waterlogged bones sat on one table, and with just a cursory look Scully could immediately tell the victim was female, and died at least two decades ago, likely more.

The other table held a dry, discolored set of bones--also female, and older than the water-logged set. This set had bite marks, on the ribs, ulna, and femur, which she attributed to foxes. It would make sense, foxes were mostly scavengers, and the marks were small. And, 17-year old Selena was found in a secluded and almost forgotten part of a wildlife refuge not far from Wilmington.

Scully turned to Lori's remains, and saw the photos of the pretty blond transposed in her mind. She heard the girl screaming, and saw her thrashing and fighting as Dodge used a cattle prod on her, and laughed, his erection growing with her pain. Lori was only a couple years older than Selena; had Selena not been murdered, they could have gone to college together. They could have been friends, two young women, laughing and drinking cheap beer in their dorm rooms to celebrate the end of midterms.

"Damn it," she mumbled. She felt his eyes, and looked up to Mulder's questioning face. She shook her head. She was fine, and they weren't going to discuss it here anyway. He nodded and backed off. Sometimes she underestimated the convenience of their ability to read each other so quickly and thoroughly.

"It's a safe bet that these are your girls, but we won't know until the lab finishes with the DNA. I already sent it to the Bureau lab, by the way. The guy laughed when I called him and told him to put a rush on it."

Mulder laughed at that. "They've been backed up since they opened."

"We can't make notifications until we know for sure. I won't put these kids' families through that," Feinstein said, his brown eyes dark with sorrow. He'd been fine earlier, but the bodies seemed to bring the whole cases racing back with a smack in the face.

"You didn't get anything else out of Dodge, did you, Scully?" Mulder ripped his eyes from the gurneys.

"No locations. Though, he does like his evening drives, seems to find them very relaxing, even with a dead body in the car."

The ME snorted. "Sounds charming."

"Terribly. He did give me a few more names though." She tore a page from her note paid, and handed it over to Feinstein.

He nodded. "I'll give this to some guys to work on tonight. Go back to your hotel, agents. Get some sleep."

* * *

Motor Lodge - Smyrna, DE (outside the JTVCC)

"I hate this, Mulder." She practically fell into the passenger seat of their rental, eyes closing as she pressed her skull into the headrest.

"Say the word, Scully, and I'll call Skinner myself, and tell him you've had enough." He closed his door, and sat, watching her.

She opened her eyes and turned to him. "I didn't say I wouldn't do it, just that I hate it. My skin is still crawling. I need a shower."

"I'll drop you at the hotel, and then go find dinner. Any requests?"

"No," she sighed. "Wait, nothing with meat or bones or blood."

"One of the guards mentioned a Mexican restaurant. How about a bean burrito and salsa and chips, extra spicy for the adventurous lady?" He gave her a smile.

She managed a smile back. "Sounds good."

As promised, Mulder dropped her off, and then headed off to the restaurant, thanking god for his photographic memory. He knew the address and after four days of driving around the area, knew how to find it. He followed his partner's lead, and went vegetarian for a night, still seeing the bones in his head and the enraptured look on Dodge's face as he stared at Scully, imagining ways to torture her.

Mulder was surprised, when he got back to the hotel, to find his partner lounging on his bed in her pajamas and a bathrobe, a file folder in her hands. He smiled at the memory it evoked of their first case together. It felt like such a long time ago, that he had that wonderful moment of finding someone who'd actually listen to him without laughing in his face. She still listened to him.

"He partner, whatcha reading?" He set the box on the bedside table, and began to remove his jacket and loosen his tie.

"Howard's file."

He stopped his motions, his hands going to his hips. "Why?"

Scully looked at him over the file, baby blue eyes impatient and tired. "I want to know why."

"Why what?"

"Why he is the way he is. What made him a killer."

Mulder sighed, and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "You aren't going to find what you want in there, Scully. You're never going to understand him the way you need to, you can't, he was right about that."

"Why, Mulder? That's what you do, you figure them out, and then find them. He's already found, I just want to figure him out. It shouldn't be that hard."

"I don't _figure them out_, Scully. I study behavior and predict future behavior and the past experiences that may have led to it, but I've never really understood. Not the way you're looking to." He didn't want this for her, this emotional torture. He knew it too well, and the last person he'd wish it upon was Scully.

Scully who watched him tight-lipped, unhappy with his assessment.

Mulder sighed and ran his hands over his face. "He's a sociopath and a sexual sadist. His father was abusive to both Howard and his mother, Howard's mother was abusive to him in turn. He took it from both, he saw the way his father treated his mother, and emulates that now. He blames his mother because she was too weak to protect him from his father, too weak to protect herself, and too weak to protect him from herself. So, he takes strong women, petite like his mother was, and does his damnedest to abuse and break them. Like his mother broke him. He has to show them both that he's stronger than they ever were, and that at heart they are weak and worthless. It may have started with a woman that pissed him off, and his need to release the anger that had built up, but after a few years of doing it, the only way he could get off was extreme violence. But, that doesn't really explain it, does it?"

"No," Scully answered softly, watching him with tired, miserable eyes.

"It doesn't explain why he became a monster, and another horribly abused child grew up to be a social worker, or a drug addict, or a teacher, or hell, a cop. Nothing in that file will explain that, Scully. Trust me. I've read and written hundreds of profiles, and never found that answer. Nobody in the BAU has or ever will." Mulder picked up her hands and held them in his. "Please don't do this to yourself. You'll drive yourself crazy."

She continued watching him for several silent minutes, before surprising her partner, and leaning up toward him. She dropped his hands, and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as close as she could, sighing into his shoulder.

"I can still feel his eyes on me, Mulder. I can't shake that feeling. It feels like Pfaster."

After the surprise wore off, Mulder squeezed her back, happy to provide her whatever comfort he could. It took all his self-control not to tense at the mention of Pfaster, and if this assignment was dragging up those memories, he was ready to call an end to it.

"Let me call Skinner, and get us off this."

"No." She abruptly pulled back, and looked into his eyes. "I have to see this through, for those families, and for myself. I'll be alright."

Mulder knew there was no talking her out of it. Dana Scully, strong as a redwood. He sighed. "Alright, what do you say we see what's on pay-per-view?"

She smirked. "And what, charge it to the Bureau?"

"It's the least they owe us for this mindfuck," he said, already grabbing the remote.

"As long as you explain it to Skinner."

He grinned. "Of course." He knew they were both putting on fake smiles, but it was the best they could do with Howard and his victims hanging over their heads. He'd play his part. "Ooh, Lusty Babes of Little Rock."

Scully grinned and threw a pillow at him.


	5. Chapter 5

_I meant to upload this yesterday, but I ended up instead traipsing around a museum and city literally until my feet were bleeding. And, I apologize in advance if for any mistakes in this one, I haven't had much of a chance to proofread. Thank you all very much for the reviews, they are greatly appreciated. There's only one more chapter left, and I have every intention of getting that up in the next few days. Thanks again for reading, and sticking with me through this piece. _

* * *

April 16, 2000 (Dancing)

JTVCC Private Meeting Room

Scully sat at the same table she'd been coming to for over a week now. Almost a dozen folders were spread in front of her, one for each of the eleven girls Dodge had identified the previous two days. He'd given up the first 10 bodies, though local law enforcement was still trying to locate two of them. Seven of the eight bodies had been positively identified as the correct girls, and the last was waiting on dental x rays. Seven families had finally been given closure. They were still waiting on five names, and seven more bodies.

She was now waiting on Dodge to be brought in. Straightening the folders again, Scully glanced toward the camera, and her partner on the other side. She was very grateful for his presence over the past week, he gave her strength and comfort. He always had. Their nightly pay-per-view movie and dinner had kept her sane, given her somewhere else to put her head for a few hours before bed. And, of course, Mulder's particular brand of commentary with these films brought a few chuckles out of her.

"Hey Puss." Dodge smiled at her widely as the guards led him in, and removed his shackles and cuffs.

He'd requested they be removed yesterday, and she'd agreed to it. He'd kept his hands to himself every time they'd met, she figured she'd reward him. And, yesterday he hadn't abused the privilege, so at the guard's questioning look, she nodded.

"So, who's next?" She gestured to the array of folders.

He leaned over, and perused the names on top of the files, smiling occasionally as one struck him. He finally pulled a folder up, and smiled at her. "This part, Puss, this part I call dancing, so how's about a waltz with my darling little Chelsea here."

Scully ran over the young woman's file in her head. Chelsea McKenzie, 25 years-old, 5 foot, 3 inches, and a small town girl who worked as a secretary by day, and bartender by night to pay her medical bills. She suffered from very early onset Rheumatoid arthritis, and her insurance didn't cover the yoga classes that made it more bearable, or the drug that gave her relief when exercises and natural remedies failed.

"If I was ever going to feel guilty about one of my girls, she would be the last one. I think I did her a favor." He opened the file, and picked up the picture inside, staring at the smiling brunette.

"I find that hard to believe."

"If you saw how much pain she was always in, you might not. I remember her behind that bar, trying to hold a bottle of tequila in one hand and pour a shot, while she held a beer hose in the other and filled a glass. She was biting her lip so she wouldn't cry out, or start balling, but you could see the tears in her eyes. Never very much, just enough to give her that layer of sheen. She always had braces on her hands and knees, but they didn't seem to help much. She hated both her jobs, didn't have any family to help her, but that girl was a survivor. One night, I saw her leave for her break, she snuck out back for a cigarette and a cry, fourteen minutes in, she dried her eyes, and sipped some water, and went back in. I knew then I had to have her."

"Where did you bury her, Dodge?"

"I grabbed her one of those nights on her break." He chuckled. "Last break she ever took."

"And?" Scully asked impatiently.

"Took her to my truck, didn't have a job for a couple a days, so I found a spot way out there, privacy you know. I had these fixtures on the bed of the truck, sort of hooks, I used them to tie the farm equipment down so it wouldn't roll around the back and get damaged. I taped her mouth shut, and tied her hands to one set of hooks, and her knees to another."

"You forced her to hold her weight on the weakest parts of her body."

He grinned. "Poetic, wasn't it Puss?"

"I was thinking something else, actually." There was no pretense of tolerance on her part, she couldn't keep it up, and he seemed to enjoy that he was disgusting her anyway.

"I bet you were. Anyway, I let her like for a little over an hour, when it really started hurting, you know tear streaming down her face and all. I'd already taken her clothes off, so it was just a matter of choosing position at that point. I decided to keep her as she was, I always did enjoy doggy-style."

"You raped her."

He nodded. "The thrusting put more pressure on her knees and hands, I can't imagine how much pain she was in."

His fat lips curled up, telling her he knew exactly how much pain she was in, and enjoyed every second of it.

"Then you what? Beat her? Burned her? Used a medieval torture device of some kind?"

"Come on, Puss! Don't ruin my fun, I'm getting there."

"Then move faster, Dodge."

"I could stop, you know. No more bodies for you."

"And, I could leave, and never come back. No more fantasies for you."

"Not true, Puss. They can take away my freedom, they can take away my favorite hobby, but none of you can take away my fantasies or my ability to jerk off to them."

His eyes were laughing, filled with what could only be described as merriment, and it turned her stomach in a violent lurch.

"Either you talk, or I walk out, Dodge."

"Calm down now, Puss. I was going to get there, you just have to be a little more patient."

She sighed, but offered no further comment.

"Alright, we were in the truck with Chelsea, right? You ever thought about what burning public hair looks like? It was quite something, like a pussy torch."

* * *

JTVCC Observation Room

"Chelsea and Holly, any luck yet?" Scully came out of the interview room at lunch time, having gotten two locations and unlimited material for nightmares.

"We just called the local PD to send them for Holly, and haven't heard back from the locals on Chelsea yet." Mulder spoke as he finished scribbling a thought on a yellow legal pad.

He'd spent the week tweaking the profile of Dodge Howard. There wasn't much to profiling in the eighties, though more than was in the sixties and seventies. Howard had only really been analyzed when he was caught and a follow-up during the days the BAU was forming and the original profilers were gathering information on killers. Mulder tweaked it now based on modern knowledge of sexual sadists, and his own 'spooky' knack for psychotics.

"What about the two we're missing, Gloria and Tabitha?"

Mulder shook his head. "Nothing yet."

"Where's Feinstein?"

"He went back to work, seems to think we can handle this fine on our own, and he's got an office to run. If we need agents to run down bodies, I'm to call him and he'll send some wherever we need them to go."

"That's very generous of him," Scully said, clearly not trusting.

"He spent six years chasing this guy, and still couldn't find all his victims, I think he's just relieved it's almost over now." Mulder knew that feeling well, too well.

She nodded, her head feeling too heavy from lack of sleep.

"Come, let's get out of here, and get something to eat." His hand found it's way to her back, and they walked out of the observation room, passing the guards dragging Dodge back to his cell for lunch.

Today probably wouldn't be a day for solid food. A few days ago they'd found a smoothie shop, and had made a not entirely healthy habit of drinking their lunch. It was too hard to manage food after Dodge's narratives, especially knowing they'd be back listening again in less than an hour. Mulder was relieved that he could get Scully to eat anything. She hadn't been able to eat much dinner either over the past week, past the burritos.

As they settled at one of the small tables in the shop, smoothies in front of them, Scully finally asked her partner what she'd been wondering all week.

"Mulder, how'd you manage to do this for two years? I've seen you when you profile, I can't imagine you how you didn't...didn't..."

"Lose it?" He offered.

She nodded, reluctantly.

"I don't know that what I did qualifies as 'managing it'. I wanted out after the first year, maybe even before that. Patterson didn't want to let me go, and the powers that be didn't want to lose their golden boy, so I was stuck there. Until my second yearly physical came around. Dr. Tracy Milner took one look at me, and told me I was going on medical leave. I can't even begin to imagine what I looked like to her. I barely slept, hardly ate, and lived on coffee and cigarettes. I could pass physical requirements because I ran reguarly, and played basketball whenever we got a game together. So, Dr. Milner goes to Blevins about me, tells him that if I wasn't transferred out of the Unit, I'd basically self-destruct. He suggests medical leave, she says I couldn't function in the BAU, they argued a while, I had to pow-wow with a couple Bureau shrinks, and finally, I got my transfer to VC. I bought Milner a $200 bottle of Champaign to thank her."

"I'm glad she was able to help you," Scully said, squeezing his hand.

That night, they fell asleep in his room, Scully waking up after midnight, and dragging herself back to her own bed, somewhat reluctantly. His bed was already warm, and his presence seemed to soothe the ugly images in her head.


	6. Chapter 6

_So this is it. The end. I can finally exercise Dodge Howard and all his ugliness from my brain. Though, I will warn you all, I was running out of steam at this point. Thank you all so much for reading this, and for the people that commented that means the world to me. I was very insecure about this piece, for a few different reasons, and those reviews quieted the fears in my mind. Thanks again, and I hope this end didn't disappoint.  
_

* * *

April 17, 2000 (the Goodnight Kiss)

JTVCC Private Meeting Room

"This is the last one, aren't you a little sad, Puss?" Dodge leaned toward her, almost innocent smile on his face.

Nine days wasn't bad. He wished it could be longer, but she kept threatening to leave every time he dawdled and he knew this girl meant it. She was stronger and smarter than she looked--it got him more than a little hot. FBI Special Agent Dana Scully was the lady of his dreams, and his nightly jerk-offs in his cell.

"Sure, it's breaking my heart." It was early in the morning, and in only a few hours, Scully would be finished with Dodge Howard forever.

He chuckled. "We did some courting, some driving, some dancing, and now it's time for a Goodnight Kiss. You ready for it, Puss?"

"Probably not, but go ahead."

"Bessie D'Angelo. 31 years of age, with a wicked case of asthma. She was my favorite, as far as dying goes. When I took her, I made sure she had her purse with her, so she'd have her inhaler. I didn't want her to check-out before I was ready. I also--and you'll appreciate this--made sure she didn't have her kids with her. A little boy and a baby girl, don't remember their names. I don't kill kids though, it does nothing for me, though now when I think back, I almost regret that. Can you imagine the look on her face as she watched me kill her kids? But, anyway, I decided to leave them out of it."

"Very considerate of you."

"I try, Puss." His thick lips twisted into a proud grin. "So, I played with her awhile, always careful to give her, her inhaler if she started to have an attack, which she did several times. I think it confused her though, like she figured I'd let her die, or was surprised that I knew what to do, or something. After awhile, I was ready to end our little date the proper way. I shoved my cock in her mouth, and pounded the back of her throat. I think she enjoyed it a little, least until the attack set in. Then I flipped her on her belly, and tore open her back door. She was laying wriggling around, and trying to scream, even though she could barely breathe. Kinda reminded me of a fish on dry land, you know? I enjoyed myself so much I left her have a puff, so it would last longer. I don't think she appreciated it much though."

"And where did you bury her?" Scully swallowed, breathing in deeply through her nose.

"She lived with her husband and kids in a suburb outside Wilmington. I figured her kids would appreciate having her close, so I waited until they were all asleep, and buried her in the backyard. It was fall, so I just covered it with some leaves, and they didn't know the difference. They visited their mama's grave every day." Dodge rubbed at his stubbled chin thoughtfully, chubby fingers distorting the lines in his face.

Scully repressed a shudder, and jotted down the information. "Great. We'll confirm that, and then we're done." She pushed her chair away from the table, and got up, turning toward the door, thrilled to be leaving.

"That's not it, Puss."

She froze, heart suddenly thudding in her ears. What did he mean? She counted the names a hundred times, Bessie made 29. "You said 29, Dodge, and you gave me 29."

"Bodies, Puss. 29 bodies. There's one that I didn't kill."

Three hours later

Darby, PA

"This file doesn't mention anything about her being raped." Scully commented, as she flipped through it on their drive to Janine Carlisle's last known address.

"It was 1952 Scully, they pretended that sort of thing didn't happen back then. And, she was his wife. They most definitely didn't recognize spousal rape. I'm surprised she wasn't institutionalized, after what he claims to have done to her." Mulder had been as surprised as she was to hear about a wife, none was mentioned in the file.

They were driving into PA, just outside Philadelphia, to speak to the woman, and determine if what Dodge told them was true at all. It seemed promising, as the local PD had faxed them an old, barely readable file on a domestic violence call that came in spring of 1952.

"At least, with the bodies unearthed, we can tell her he's going to be executed at some point."

Mulder nodded in agreement. "Uh, what's the number of the house?"

Scully glanced at the post-it she'd stuck to the file. "137, so left side of the road."

"Yeah, looks like it's this white one." He leaned over, and gestured to a small two story house, as he parallel parked on the street.

It was a well-maintained property, with a clean stone pathway, green trim, and a simple brass knocker on the front door. A teenager with an infant on her hip answered, blonde hair pouring over her back, and eyes almost as blue as Scully's.

"Hi, I'm Fox Mulder, this is Dana Scully, we're with the FBI. We're looking for Janine Carlisle?" They pulled out their badges in tandem, as Mulder introduced them.

"Uh, that's my grandmother. Why don't you come in, I'll go get her." Her smile had fallen into a concerned frown.

A few minutes passed while they waited on a beige sofa, before a petite older woman came out beside the girl, wiping her hands on an apron. Her hair had grayed, and her face was well-lined, blue eyes much like the girls looked only the slightest bit subdued. She might be old, but the woman hadn't given up yet.

"How can I help the FBI?" She sat across from them, her granddaughter beside them.

"We're investigating your ex-husband ma'am. Dodge Howard?"

She instantly tensed.

"Gran?" The girl's eyes were darting back and forward, her mouth set in a frown.

"Abby, please take the baby and go up to the nursery," she instructed, patting the girl's hand. She obeyed, though hesitantly.

"My granddaughter lives with me. Her parents were furious when she got pregnant, so she came to stay with me. She's going to college now in Philadelphia, at the University of Pennsylvania. She's good girl."

"That's a good school, almost Ivy League," Mulder commented.

"Ma'am, we pulled the domestic violence report from 1952, when your husband was on leave before his next tour in Korea. Can you tell us about that?" Scully asked, leaning forward, her voice soft.

"Everything is in that report. Nothing came of it, Dodge shipped out two days later."

"He told us he raped you, but we don't see mention of it in the report."

"You wouldn't. Not back then. But, I got pregnant from that night, had a son, Abby's father. He's a good boy, doesn't remember much of Dodge, thank god. My Henry did most of the raising, and _he _was a good man, helped me bring up my boy and our two daughters right."

"When did you divorce, Dodge?" Scully asked.

"Um, November 1955. He was a miserable bastard, and hated having a crying kid around, Davey was only a toddler then. I told him one day, that if he was unhappy that we should just get a divorce, and he could live the life he really wanted. I expected to beat half out of my mind for that comment, but he only nodded. I moved back in with my parents the next day, and Dodge signed the papers without a fight."

"Mrs. Carlisle, are you aware your ex-husband spent the last 17 years incarcerated in Delaware?" Mulder questioned.

"Yes. I saw the coverage on TV, didn't doubt he was guilty for a second...Why? They aren't thinking of letting him out are they?" Suddenly, she was very nervous, her eyes wide and frightened.

"No," Scully assured her quickly. "He was given a life sentence, but he recently confessed to several more murders, so he'll likely be tried again and transferred to death row."

"Oh, thank the lord! I never understood why they didn't execute him straight away." She shook her head, and blew into her hands.

"The evidence wasn't as damning as they would have liked, so the prosecutor cut a deal. No death penalty."

"Is this you're wedding photo, Mrs. Carlisle?" Mulder held a photo out to her.

"Yes, when I married Henry." She smiled, eyes growing glassy. It was pretty clear Henry had died not too long ago.

Mulder turned the photo toward Scully to show her. Janine Carlise, a foot shorter than her new husband, smiled at the camera, her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes sparking, and her red hair cascading down her back.

Scully's eyes darted up to her partner's hazel ones, her mouth open in surprise.

Motor Lodge - Smyrna, DE

Later that evening

"Do you think he loved her?" The files were packed away, the case done as far as they were concerned, and a little over half a cheese pizza consumed. Mulder was scrolling through the pay-per-view choices, and both were leaning back on his bed.

"No."

Her eyebrows rose at his very quick, simple answer.

Mulder sighed. "Don't kid yourself, Scully. He can't feel. Not love, not fear, not pain, not joy, nothing."

"Then why leave her? It doesn't fit the profile, Mulder. He's a possessive, controlling son of a bitch, he wouldn't give her up that easily."

He nodded. "You're right, he wouldn't. But, he didn't leave because of, or for her. It was the boy. Every time he saw his son, terrified, cowering in a corner, crying for his mother, he saw himself. He saw the weak little boy he once was, and couldn't stand it. He couldn't bear to be in the same room as that kid, because it reminded him that he's weak and pathetic. He couldn't handle that."

"Then why not kill the boy?" She wondered.

"That would be like killing himself."

Scully shook her head back and forth. Criminology, profiling, just was not her forte. She would be very happy to go back to slicing up bodies. It was far less soul-crushing.

Mulder watched her for several minutes, wondering what was going on in her head. Then he sighed. "So, what do you think, 'Cider House Rules' or 'Dogma', which I'll warn you, is very likely to make fun of your religion."

"It's supposed to be funny though, right?"

"Yes, so I'm told."

"Then go with that."

Mulder nodded and started the movie. They spent the roughly two hours, commenting and debating Christian mythology, and the concept of ideas versus beliefs. Scully was actually quite tickled by the idea of a thirteenth apostle, especially one name Rufus. Mulder found the Twilight Zone on, and they continued their debate through that.

It was during the second episode with the infamous 'Talking Tina' doll that Scully's eyes began to drift shut, and her head tilt slightly toward Mulder's. By the end she was completely passed out on his shoulder. But, tonight she didn't wake up and shuffle back to her own room.

Tonight, she didn't really care. And, Mulder was perfectly content.


End file.
